


M Is For Motherhood

by SK_Kasai



Series: The A-Z of One Lucifer Morningstar [13]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Memories, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Hurt Lucifer, Kid Lucifer, Luci deserves love and a family, Protective Chloe Decker, Sick Lucifer, Whump, some crying too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SK_Kasai/pseuds/SK_Kasai
Summary: “I thought you wanted to figure out these issues, now that you are living with Chloe and Trixie all the time.”“I do!” He exclaimed, “It’s just… It was just manipulation. She was busy. Both of my parents were. It isn’t a big deal.”“It’s called abuse.” Doctor Linda informed him gently, seeing his struggle, “Abuse and neglect, Lucifer. You didn’t deserve any of it.”Lucifer hands were shaking. His heart was being obnoxiously loud in his chest. This was too much.“I think that’s enough for today, Doctor.” He managed to say, almost fleeing the couch and allowing the door to slam behind him.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Lucifer Morningstar & Mother of Angels | Charlotte Richards, Trixie Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar
Series: The A-Z of One Lucifer Morningstar [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654774
Comments: 41
Kudos: 536





	M Is For Motherhood

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was brilliantly suggested by frckica, MintChocoPie, and Bring_me_light(Tricky_Arrow).
> 
> One day, I'm going to write a sensible 1-2k fic for a prompt instead of... whatever this is. Today is not that day though XD
> 
> Here's almost 6k words of whump and angst with a lot of fluff and Deckerstar at the end! Have a brilliant day. Stay safe and inside, marvellous people!

_**Early season 2...** _

Lucifer Morningstar was weird.

In fact, he was so weird that any behaviour that could be regarded as “normal” on his part was weird in its own right. 

Sometimes, his weirdness, otherwise dubbed as “Luciferness” was annoying and irritating. That was mostly okay. The problem was that, during other times, his marked Luciferness sent alarm bells ringing in Chloe Decker’s head.

It was not uncommon for Lucifer to question the most ridiculous of things; things that were almost instinctive in how basic they were. It was not uncommon for his to go on rants about his father or his siblings or hell or how unpleasant getting tossed out of heaven was. She had grown accustomed to these rants over the several months that we worked together, her mortification and constant questions about his “delusions” lessening considerably over time.

After all, she needed the eggs, right?

But as he stared at Ella’s retreating back, frowning as if he was attempting to solve the greatest mystery of creation, Chloe found that she couldn’t ignore this and dismiss it as a sign of his usual weirdness. Not when he had _that_ look on his face. 

“Lucifer?” She asked, “Everything alright?”

Lucifer seemed to startle, snapping out of his musings. He turned on his heel to face her, toying with his silver cufflinks.

“I...” He frowned again, blinking and shaking his head, “Detective, perhaps you could help me with a query?” 

Chloe spared a glance at the forensic team doing another swipe of today’s crime scene before nodding. It didn’t seem like there was much for her and her Civilian Consultant to do in terms of advancing the case; not when they didn’t have any ID or leads.

“Sure.” She shrugged, wondering what could be on his mind now. Had Ella done or said something to him?

“Miss Lopez, she… She keeps hugging me.” He confessed, troubled.

“So?”

“Why?” He pressed on, “I don’t understand it. She… I thought that it was just your spawn who was prone to hugging people, my devilish self included, at all times for no reason. However, Miss Lopez seems to be the same and it is… unsettling.” He shuddered, “What could she possibly want in return of so many hugs? Not that I enjoy them much less understand the purpose of them.”

Chloe was frowning, regarding her parter, waiting for the punch line. She knew that he was… less than a fan of hugging -or physical contact that was not sex in any way, shape, or form- but seriously?

The punch line did not come though. Lucifer kept staring at her, waiting for her answer. 

Chloe was speechless.

“You think Ella wants something from you?” She echoed.

“Why else would she hug me?” Lucifer rolled his eyes, “Honestly, Detective, did you even listen to a word of what I just said?”

Chloe listened. A selfish part of her was wishing that she hadn’t, but oh well. Listening in its own was a way to help him, right? If she knew parts of what was wrong, she could try and help. She could… She could… What could she even do under such circumstances?

“I mean,” Lucifer continued, unaware of the hundred different shades of emotion (sadness and horror for the most part) flashing in her eyes, “the urchin is… different. She’s a child. Children are strange creatures, as I’ve mentioned several times in the past. I thought that she was the only one with this weird obsession with physical contact, and then it seemed that the obsession itself was evident in all tiny offspring. Miss Lopez is not a child, despite how she has the height of one. Hence, the only plausible explanation for all her hugs and smiles has to be that she wants something.”

Here he was, explaining to her as if she just needed a bit of clarification to understand. As if she could ever understand anything except for her insane urge to punch his father in the face at the moment. That had to be his fault, right? 

Lucifer was still staring.

“I...” She managed to grind out, fingers curling into fists at her sides, “People hug each other because… because it means something. To humans. To, ah, everyone. You hug someone because you love them, and you… you want to express that love to them. It can have many meanings, like… It can be as greeting, for comfort, for happiness or relief or sadness or you just want to make someone feel safe or-”

“Detective.” Lucifer sighed, rolling his eyes at her again, “Do you even realize how many times you just contradicted yourself? That was… completely useless.”

With a shake of his head, Lucifer was stalking off, leaving her with her mouth practically hanging open.

“Maybe I’ll just ask Miss Lopez what she wants later.” He shrugged, opening the passenger door of her cruiser, “Easier to be direct that to work through the maze of lies you just concocted, Detective.”

Chloe could still see the odd blend of disappointment and pity on his face as he slid into the passenger seat, graceful as ever. Lucifer began to fumble with the radio, the conversation they just had already banished out of his mind by the toddler-like attention span he seemed to posses. 

In her mind, and as far as she recalled, that seemed to be the moment when she began to pay almost obsessive attention to anything about his parents. Perhaps it was only second to that night when she had seen his scars for the first time all those months ago.

_***cries in Deckerstar*** _

It wasn’t that incidents like the whole thing with Ella and the hugging were unheard of. On the contrary, Lucifer often said and did many things that made her question the very nature of his upbringing. While Lucifer himself was very vocal about how there was no love lost between him and his family, Chloe was certain that he didn’t understand just how bad everything really was.

More often than not, Lucifer acted as if it was all perfectly normal.

But when he suddenly swaggered onto the crime scene, eating and drinking evidence, sporting what she would refer to as his “homeless magician” look… That was far from normal, even for him. 

As the case progressed, and Lucifer became more and more distant, Chloe’s worry increased. She had met Linda, his therapist, at girl’s night several weeks ago. Was Linda helping him? Did she have an idea regarding what was going on with him? Was he allowing her to help him or was he pushing her out as much as he was pushing Chloe herself out?

She wondered if Linda would talk to her. Surely, there had to be something that her friend could tell her to lessen her all encompassing concern for her partner without breaching their doctor-patient confidentiality.

Chloe would have given it a bit more time, knowing how… _Lucifer_ … Lucifer can get sometimes, but then he jumped in front of that shooter.

_“Come on, Mr Shooter!” He mocked, “What are you waiting for? Shoot me!”_

“Why do you hug your spawn so much?” Lucifer asked, nose wrinkled, snapping her out of her musings.

“She’s my daughter, Lucifer.”

“So?”

“So?” She snorted, “You’re supposed to hug your kids. Hugging your kids is like… one of the best things about being a parent. It’s really great for both of the kid and the parent.”

“Nonsense.” He insisted.

“Didn’t your parents ever hug you?”

She was dreading the answer although she was almost certain that she knew it. Was there a time before when he was close with his father? What about his mother? She only knew about Charlotte Richards, his supposed step-mother.

“No, of course not.” Lucifer told her, leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the corner of the desk, “Why would they have?”

The styrofoam cup of coffee in her hand crumpled under. Hot liquid spewed her hands and her desk. Chloe could not care less.

_***cries in Deckerstar*** _

The Detective was acting strange. 

Lucifer needed her help with all the questions his Mother’s return had sparked up. Yet, while she apparently tried her best to answer, it always ended horribly.

His questions seemed to make her sad. 

Lucifer didn’t mean to do that of course. If it were up to him, he’d do everything in his power to make sure that the Detective never had to be sad ever again.

It was just…

He didn’t know what he was doing per se and hence he didn’t know how to stop it.

“Detective?” He asked one day while they were making lunch together at her house, “Why do you hang up all the spawn’s art? Well, if it could be called that, that is.”

Her gorgeous blue eyes followed his to where the entire wall was covered in garish, childish cartoons.

“Maze hangs them up.” She told him, “To hide all the indents her knife throwing leaves in the wall.”

That made no sense. Was Maze throwing knives at the Detective’s desk too? In her pockets?

“Perhaps not this wall specifically.” Lucifer amended, “Why do you hang up the urchin’s ugly drawings and keep them with you wherever you go? Why treat them like priceless masterpieces?”

“Oh.” The Detective smiled, a bit uncertain and surprised, “They are “priceless masterpieces”.” She told him, her smile turning fond and adoring, “Trixie spends hours working on them!”

“So?” Lucifer frowned, not sure what she meant, “They still look horrible.”

“Lucifer!” She scolded, swatting his forearm, “She’s _eight!_ Besides, she’s my daughter.”

“So?”

“How many time are you going to repeat that?”

“As many times as it takes to get the answer to my question out of you, Detective.”

“Okay, look, she’s my kid. I don’t care what her drawings look like. She drew them herself and _that’s_ enough to make them worth more than any epic real paintings to me.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.” Lucifer mumbled, “Perhaps this can just be attributed to your horrible choices of home décor?”

She threw a dish towel at him. Lucifer grinned, unsure what the ache in his chest was.

_*cries in Deckerstar*_

Samael had been beyond happy.

He’d figured it out!

That particular constellation had been giving him quite the hard time. Michael had been teasing him about it for ages. Dad had told him to repeat it what must have been a thousand times.

But now, it was all done!

He’d had the collective pleasure of enjoying his accomplishment with his brother for a few hours before he excused himself to go tell their Father. He’d just nodded and sent the Lightbringer on his merry way, too busy doing who-knows-what with one of his newest projects.

To say that Samael was crushed would be an understandment. He had no idea who he should go to though. Amenadiel would tell him to stop being a baby. Michael would echo that sentiment before trying to distract him with some game or joke or something. He didn’t want distraction though. Not this time. He craved something… deeper.

He made his way through the Silver City, occasionally stopping to converse with some of his kin. His Mother had set her quarters far away, as far away from Father as possible. It was all for the better, as Michael tried to reassure him. Any time the God and Goddess were in the same room, things got ugly. Still, Samael could not quite get used to this new reality.

He’d made his Mother a gift. It was silly, he knew. However, he’d fashioned her a lovely bracelet from the same energy he’d used to create his latest constellation. The stone was oval, glowing with the light of creation. If you focused hard enough on it, you could make out some black specs glittering deep within it. Michael had called it a "reverse galaxy". 

It was pretty, but it also made Samael feel warm. Warm as in the warmth of a long, long time ago. So long ago in fact that it felt as though he was making it up at times. Was he? Maybe the warmth would make his Mother miss the way things were.

“Mum!” He called out, excited, bursting into the spacious rooms, “Mum! Look what I made you!”

The Goddess was sitting on a balcony, staring off into space. (Literal space as she was taking a look at her the foundations of her husband’s newest project. The magnificent gardens extending in front of her might have meant nothing to her all together)

“Mum!”

She snapped out of her trance, turning to cast a glance at her son with a long suffering sigh. In human years, he would have been the equivalent of something from around ten to twelve or so. With his curly hair and wide, bright chocolate eyes, he really was among the most adorable of her children. It didn’t mean that she wanted to see him though. Not when her husband had already begun planning.

“Yes, Samael?”

“I made you this!” He told her excitedly, opening the palm of his hand to reveal the shinning gem within before he launched into an explanation of his creation.

“It is quite… lovely.” She interrupted, giving him a small smile and a nod taking the proffered gift from his hand, “On you way now. Go play with Michael or something. I have more important matters to attend to.”

His smile didn’t falter when she just placed the gem on the edge and turned back to whatever she was doing. However, when she gasped at something she must have been seeing and knocked his gift right off the railing…

“Mum!” He exclaimed, wings already out, “It fell down!”

“Yes. Whatever.”

  
When she didn’t care and the gem kept getting lost or misplaced over the next few days, he stopped trying to retrieve it for her. She obviously could not care less. That day, Michael had a hard time locating his twin. Samael spent ages brooding amid his stars, feeling stupid for his tears and for believing that anything he ever did would be enough for either of their parents.

_***cries in Deckerstar*** _

“You took forever!” Lucifer whined, slumping in relief as he watched the Detective close the door to her daughter’s room behind her, “What took you so long?” He demanded.

“I was reading her a bed time story, like you know I always do.” The Detective told him, coming to plop down on the couch next to him, “What are we going to watch?”

“Detective, when will your spawn stop being illiterate? Do humans take this long to learn how to read? Shouldn't she have learned it at her daily jail or something?”

“Of course she can read, Lucifer.” The Detective rolled her eyes.

“Then why waste your time reading to her every night?”

“Lucifer, it isn’t a waste of time.” She sighed after a while, “She’s my daughter.”

“You answer half my questions with that ambiguous statement!” He muttered, wondering if she was out to trick him or something, "You say it as though it's something of utmost importance; like it's just the _obvious_ answer to any question I might ask you about these matters."

She stared at him for a long time after that. Lucifer could discern sadness and some other emotion in her eyes. It made him uncomfortable, a bit as though her gaze was putting him under some sort of microscope to study or subjecting him to an intense, fixed, burning light.

“Your mother never did any of these things for you, huh?” She asked at last, her fingers finding his and her gaze never wavering.

It was Lucifer’s turn to laugh.

_***cries in Deckerstar*** _

**_(Sometime during the last few episodes of season 2...)_ **

Lucifer was about to leave.

The Detective had gone upstairs to shower, declining all his offers to join despite his tenacious attempts at trying to convince her. Oh well, someday…

He fixed his jacket and scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing at how tired he was feeling. Everything with his Mother…

It was just a the wrong timing.

The devil was still trying to work his way through the whole “miracle” business. Anything he came up with failed. Spending time with the Detective was a punishment worthy of hell, but being away from her was even more agony. He had no idea whether or not he’d managed to ruin their relationship all together or not yet.

It wasn’t as though he deserved her anyway. (the fact that she still kissed him on the beach though, after his little pathetic speech… Lucifer couldn’t stop thinking about it though. No amounts of sex, drinks, or drug was doing the trick for him this time)

  
He was about to leave, resolved to being tortured by his Mother’s presence back at his home. Amenadiel would probably be there too. His Father really couldn’t stop punishing him, huh?

However, Lucifer heard a strange, muted whimper. 

He was on immediate alert, his heightened senses allowing him to rapidly deduce that the sounds were emitting from the offspring’s bedroom. Lucifer hurried there, not certain as to why dread and fear were pooling in his stomach.

He cracked the door open just a bit, finding the urchin twisting and turning on her bed, in the clear hold of what he recognized as a horrid nightmare.

That poor tiny human…

Lucifer had no idea what to do. He turned to leave, sighting the fact that he was the devil and that devils weren’t really all that good at soft, mushy things. Several memories played in the back of his head, taunting him.

_He cried and cried and cried. Hidden up there in the cover of the huge, beautiful tree, Samael knew that no one would find him. It was all for the better anyway. He didn’t think any of them wanted him._

_She’d yelled at him in front of all the others when he came running and crying from some stupid nightmare he’d had about the Silver City burning to smouldering ashes and everyone dying and leaving him. They’d all laughed. Samael was never going to be dumb enough again to go broadcast his weakness like that to anyone ever again._

_It didn’t change the fact that he was still scared. The nights were long and the gaping wounds in his chest only seemed to widen with time. Nightmares were a horrible curse placed upon him and only him. He was all alone, even in that. He knew that he was pathetic and he was willing to admit it if it meant that anyone came to make him feel better after the terrible visions._

_He felt more and more pathetic with time. Lost, unloved, weak, and unwanted. Yet, no one came._

Lucifer didn’t know where that stupid set of endless memories had come from. He blamed it all on his Mother’s return and the increasing amounts of time he spent in the Detective’s house as of late. His stupid mind seemed intent on drawing up comparisons between him and the spawn and the Detective and his Mother. It was bothersome and preposterous. 

Doctor Linda had a lot of things to say on the matter. Lucifer though that she was being silly.

He couldn’t leave the spawn to suffer his pain though.

Sighing, Lucifer nervously shuffled into the room. He leaned by the tiny bed, knees on the floor, trying his damn hardest to not think about the multitude of unpleasant things his navy suit was going to suffer through during this ordeal. Urchin snot was probably, if not definitely, in his close future.

“Urchin… Wake up.” He ordered softly, hoping to get out of having to touch her.

That didn’t work. He nudged her tiny shoulder with his index finger. “Spawn, come on. You’re having a nightmare… Time to wake up...”

Eventually, she did. 

She immeadiatly burst into tears, flying into his arms the moment she registered his presence. Lucifer squirmed in her grasp, not liking the sensation of her small, short arms around his neck.

“I want mommy!” She sniffed, “Is she okay? D-did the bad man kill her?” She gasped, sobs coming faster, “Is that why you’re h-h-here, Lucifer?”

He rubbed soothing circles on her back, certain that it was the main thing he’d seen people on TV do to comfort one another.

“Now, now, urchin.” He soothed, “Your mother is perfectly fine. She is upstairs, having a shower. I was just leaving.”

“She’s okay?”

“Yes.”

“The bad man didn’t hurt her?” 

“No.” He answered, short and simple, his blood boiling. Was the spawn talking about the night in the hangar with the deranged Malcolm or the more recent poisoning episode?

“You’re okay too?” She asked, leaning back to gingerly poke his face.

“I’m always okay, spawn.”

“You’re gonna cry.” She told him, “Don’t cry, please.” She soothed, patting his cheek with her grubby, sticky, offspring paws, “We should go find mommy.”

“What on earth for?”

“She always makes me feel better when I have a bad dream.” The offspring told him, “She can make you feel better too. We can go all sleep in her bed, if you want. Sometimes, she sings to me or tells me funny stories when I wake her up after I’ve had a bad dream. Other times, we just cuddle and talk or watch something on TV until I can go back to sleep.”

“Your mother does… what?”

That made absolutely no sense to him. Was the spawn lying to him? And to think that he was allowing her snot to come in contact with his Armani…

“It’s all standard nightmare stuff.” She told him, burrowing into the crook of his neck, “Didn't your mommy do this sort of thing for you when you had bad dreams as little kid?”

He remembered the crushing loneliness. The darkness. The tears and the feeling of helplessness. The endless visages on loop in his sick mind, torturing him with a punishment no one cared enough to find a cure for.

The damn tear finally found its way down his cheek.

_*cries in Deckerstar*_

“Lucifer! Stay still!” The Detective commanded, levelling him with a glare.

“This is ridiculous, Detective!”

“You have a fever of 104 degrees!” She countered, “No way in hell I’m letting you get off that couch!”

“The devil does not get sick!”

“Tell that to the thermometer.”

“That thing is c-clearly defective.” Lucifer groaned, trying his absolute hardest to get up from the relative comfort of his cocoon of pillows. Why was he so cold?

“Lucifer, you’re shaky, sweaty, and dizzy.” The Detective sighed, coming from the kitchen with a fully tray in her hands, “You’ve thrown up at the precinct and then again on the way here. It’s obvious that no less than half your body is torturing you with aches. You can hardly talk! Here, on earth, we call this the flu.”

Lucifer just groaned, falling back into the bed. The one time the Detective invited him to her bed… All the wasted opportunities! He didn’t think he felt up to it, even if she were to offer. Lucifer was too scared that he’d throw up on her or pass out from the never-ending pain behind his eyes. Neither of those seemed like a good thing.

“What the hell is that smell?” He whined.

“Chicken soup.” The Detective supplied, “Hasn’t anyone ever made you chicken soup when you were sick before?”

“No one takes care of me when I am ill, Detective.” He rolled his eyes, coughing to ease the pain in the back of his throat, “Don’t be ridiculous. Not that I’ve ever gotten sick like this before.”

“Not even your parents?”

“They were too busy building the little bloody thing that you call the universe or fighting over it.” Lucifer told her, not sure what she was getting at. He’d seen parents taking care of their sickly offspring on TV before, but it hadn’t struck him as something that happened in real life.

_He knew that it was his fault for being stupid enough to pull that stunt, but he still wanted someone to be there for him._

_He was sick. Disgusting as that was._

_He just shivered under his covers, arms wrapped tight around his aching midsection. His breakfast had spewed out of his mouth a few minutes ago and it was repulsive. Neither he nor Michael had a name for the disgusting occurrence. Michael had went to fetch their Mother. Some of their siblings had just laughed. Although Lucifer was a bit fuzzy on it, he was sure that his twin had even punched Gabriel for insulting him and calling him weak. Rae-Rae had beem crying. He had no idea where she was right now though._

_He wondered if she would make him feel better. He felt lonely. It was a constant, dull ache now, his one and only unwanted companion in everything he said and did._

_“Mother said that she was busy.” Michael sighed, his wings slumped in dejection, “I cannot find Raphy either.”_

_“So, I shall die then, brother.” He laughed, broken and empty, cracking his eyes open._

_“You won’t die!” Michael exclaimed, eyes wide, “Angels cannot die!”_

_“Well, it feels like I’m bloody dying.” He groused. He remember his Mother constantly telling him to stop acting like a seedling. His cheeks became red, in shame rather in fever._

_He reasoned that he should stop complaining._

_He really, really didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to get called a weakling or a coward by his own Mother. He wanted her usual routine of ignoring them to continue._

_He wobbled out of bed and tried to go on with his day as per usual. When he passed out in the middle of sparing and had his arm broken by a kick that he was too dizzy to dodge, he didn’t think much of it._

_It was his fault for getting ill anyway, right?_

Lucifer closed his eyes, more and more unpleasant memories invading his mind. He’d already woken up screaming due to a feverish nightmare about his Fall and the Detective’s recent poisoning. It had disgusted him. He tried to hold on to that, ignoring the fear and panic in his chest. The Detective had taken it as a sign to coddle him.

She was currently running her hands through his hair. Lucifer was trying to muster up the will to tell her to stop. He was all sweaty and disgusting. Surely she had better things to do than spending her time accompanying him through his unfortunate bout of illness? Why was he ill in the first place?

“So, no one took care of you while you were sick before? Not even when you were a kid?” She asked, eyes shiny and voice thick with emotion.

“No, of course not.” Lucifer answered immediately, “Not that I got sick a lot, mind you. Almost never, actually. Devil and all that. But, no, no one hovered by my pathetic sickbed until you and all these strange things you seem determined to put me through, Detective. I mean, what is the purpose of these strips of damp clothing? They feel amazing, but I-”

She was crying.

How did he manage to make her cry all the time?

Lucifer didn’t understand. He allowed her to hug him though, wondering if it was something he said. Hugging her made him feel better, a bit like how tossing his phone out the window to evade his Mother’s constant calls about the stupid flaming sword on the way here did.

He was glad he found refuge here, the embarrassment of being ill in front of his Mother too much to think about much less actually handle. He owed the Detective immensely for her kindness.

“Your parents suck.” A voice said from his chest.

He cracked his eyes open to find the spawn half on top of him, crying her little eyes out too. What was it with these people? When had the urchin found her way here? Lucifer wondered if he was almost back to passing out for short intervals of time like he had been a few hours ago. It was creeping him out.

“I hate them.” The urchin declared, “So, so much.”

“Me too.” The Detective sniffed, tightened her arms around him.

“I am not terribly fond of either of them as well.” Lucifer sighed, “Now, can you two please unhand me? I do not understand the purpose of all of this odd physical contact. Am I being punished?”

That just seemed to make them hug him tighter and cry even harder.

Lucifer had almost given up trying to understand at that point.

**_*cries in Deckerstar*_ **

**_(Post season 4, in a Deckerstar-are-happily-living-together-now time...)_ **

“Doctor, it’s _manipulation_!” He insisted, scoffing at her lengthy explanation, “My Mother is a master in the art of manipulation. She loved mind games almost as much as Dear Old Dad.”

“Lucifer, she ignored you until she wanted to use you for something.”

“Well, that is just…” He faltered, “A good leader can always discern when or when not to make use of their resources.”

“You are her _son._ ” The Doctor stated, “Shouldn’t that mean something more?”

Lucifer twisted his cufflinks, uncomfortable with this entire conversation. When had they went from dealing with Beatrice growing up to discussing his mommy issues?

Not that he had any, thank you very much.

The Doctor had been grilling him about his Mother for ages. Lucifer wondered why she was so eager to talk about this after her horrible experience with the Goddess of All Creation. Lucifer still felt a bit guilty about that one.

She'd asked him whether or not he missed his Mother. Whether or not he thought she had wronged him. Whether or not he thought she loved him.

Maybe. No. Yes? _("She just had a funny way of showing love, Doctor!")_

His Father was the problem. He'd hurt him. His Mother... She was annoying sometimes but it wasn't... She wasn't...

“Let’s try something else.” Doctor Linda suggested, adjusting her glasses, “Can you compare how Chloe treats Trixie to how your Mother treated you?”

“This is beyond ridiculous.” He huffed, reaching out to pour himself a glass of water if only to give his hands something to do.

He hated this. He hated this. He hated this.

“Lucifer?” The Doctor prompted.

He sighed, placing his glass of water on the table. Lucifer pulled out his trusty flask from his suit pocket, drowning at least half of the contents. How marvellous would it be if that managed to get him drunk somehow?

“I do not see where you are going with this, Doctor.” He muttered, placing the silver flask back in its place.

“Humour me.”

“Fine!” He huffed, “I’ve already thought about this all, you know? Years ago. The Detective is nothing like my Mother. Thankfully. She’s… she would never hurt the urchin, circumstances be damned. She’s always there to pat her on the back and tell her that she did a good job whether or not she actually did. She takes care of her when she’s sick and she holds her when she wakes up from a nightmare or cries about something, no matter how stupid it is. She… she would never put her in harm’s or… or disregard her emotions or call her weak, pathetic, or ignore her until she can fit in one of her bloody plans...”

He trailed off, realizing that he was almost yelling. He cleared his throat, trying to relax.

“I don’t think you can apply your human standards to my family, Doctor.” He sighed at last, “Can’t we stop this nonsense?”

“I thought you wanted to figure out these issues, now that you are living with Chloe and Trixie all the time.”

“I do!” He exclaimed, “It’s just… It was just manipulation. She was busy. Both of my parents were. It isn’t a big deal.”

“It’s called abuse.” Doctor Linda informed him gently, seeing his struggle, “Abuse and neglect, Lucifer. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Lucifer hands were shaking. His heart was being obnoxiously loud in his chest. This was too much.

“I think that’s enough for today, Doctor.” He managed to say, almost fleeing the couch and allowing the door to slam behind him.

Doctor Linda sighed, her heart aching for her friend and her patient. Everything was going better now though. They had hope. It was all a work in progress.

_***cries in Deckerstar*** _

“So, how did it go?”

“I don’t wish to talk about it.” Lucifer groaned, plopping face-down into their bed after throwing his suit jacket and allowing it to almost knock over the lamp on the nightstand.

“That bad, huh?” Chloe sympathized, coming from where she was hanging a few of her blouses in the closet to sit next to him. 

Lucifer gave her a groan and a mumbled “Worse” in response. Sighing, she carded her finger through his hair, smiling when he shuffled closer to her. In less than a minute, she was leaning back against the headboard with his head in her lap. Lucifer buried his face in her hip, clearly not in the mood for talking much.

“I’ve missed you.” She told him, pressing a kiss to his temple, “I haven’t seen you all day, mister.”

“Sorry.” He mumbled, sighing and relaxing when she began to stroke his back.

“Property damage?” She wondered, teasing him, trying to get him to tell her anything at all.

“Not at the good Doctor’s office at least.” He muttered after a pause.

“Lucifer!”

“When will the urchin be back from her outing with Daniel?”

“An hour or so. Maybe less.” Chloe estimated, “Why? Do you miss her?”

“Perhaps.”

Oh. 

In Luciferian that meant that he missed Trixie a lot. Her poor devil…

“Movie night?” She suggested gently, scratching his neck and grinning when he groaned in pleasure as she massaged his scalp.

“Popcorn and chocolate cake?”

“Is that what you desire?” She wondered in a poor imitation of his voice and accent for the word “desire”.

“Isn’t that my line?” He laughed, “And is that supposed to be my accent?”

“Perhaps.” She repeated it like he had said it a minute ago. Well, she tried to at least.

Lucifer giggled, shaking his head against her stomach.

“Only you can cheer me up like this, Detective.”

She wasn’t really sure what she was doing to cheer him up in the first place. Were her touch, her horrible impression of his distinctive accent, and a lame offer of a night in with her and her pre-teen daughter enough to cheer him up?

He deserved all the joy in the world. Chloe knew that Linda was finally tackling some of his more… complex familial issues. She was glad to be next to him, able to offer him the love and comfort that he’d craved for so long without even knowing it.

“I love you.” She grinned, “You know that, right?”

Lucifer groaned, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her.

“You’re always sure to tell me so.” He smiled, reverent and adoring, “I love you as well, Detective.”

That… that was the first time that he’d said it to her.

_Ever._

It was always an “And I you” or something of the like. Ever since he came back, Lucifer hadn’t been too shy in expressing his love for her. However, it was more in the form of actions than words; in everything he did and said.

It shouldn’t have been this important, but the words were taking her breath away.

She leaned down to serenade the beautiful, remarkable moment with a kiss, confident that they could work through anything either of them face together.

**Author's Note:**

> Suggest any more prompts that you would like to see down in the comments. Any prompts you want really!
> 
> I probably should stop already, but hey, come chat on:
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/NerdQueen777?s=09  
> Or Tumblr: https://sk-kasai-my-world.tumblr.com/


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